Mass Effect 3: Perspective
by kab.neenan
Summary: This work follows the events of the third game in the Mass Effect trilogy through a cast of original characters, lead by one June Shin.
1. Earth

**Author Notes**

_So, fan-fictions. Ever since a good friend of mine in middle school asked me to read her Digimon fan-fiction, and subsequently making the mistake of asking me for my opinion, I have steered clear of the shady world that is fan-fiction. Not to off-put any of my prospective audience, but that is where I stand and it might help to know this before reading further. The Mass Effect universe, however, has prompted me to revisit that dark place. I am a huge sucker for science fiction and I have a flare for dramatics, so ever since my introduction to the Mass Effect universe I have been intrigued by the lore._

_And then came Mass Effect 3's dubious conclusion._

_I've imagined more than a few very colorful situations that could have given birth to that sack, but it does nothing to change the fact that Bioware fucked up. So what's a girl with an overactive imagination and way too much free time at her cozy desk job to do? Write a new ending, perhaps? Setting aside my aversion to fan-fiction, that is what I have done. I hope you enjoy._

_This work is currently in-progress; all feedback is encouraged and appreciated. It takes a village to raise a novel, right?_

**Disclaimers**

_Everything Mass Effect belongs to EA and Bioware; copyright infringement is not intended (read: don't sue me, Bioware; I ain't got nothin' anyway)._

_Original characters are of my own conception. Take that for what it's worth._

_There are probably spoilers in here somewhere, so this is a cursory advertisement to read no further if you have not played the trilogy in its entirety (or at least don't mind spoilers)._

_This work is based on a rated-M game. If you've played the games, I hope you're mature enough to handle violence, language, and adult themes. If not, well, this counts as fair warning._

_This work assumes the Indoctrination Theory. If you are unfamiliar with the concept, please open a new tab and let Google explain it for me._

* * *

As soon as the door slid back, June was hit by the mid-summer humidity wafting from the Chesapeake Bay. Though the sky directly overhead was a clear, deep blue, a few heavy clouds threatened the horizon and a stifling haze clung to the trees arranged around the receiving port behind the hospital. The second-year resident narrowed her bloodshot eyes into the midday sunlight and pulled her long hair off of her neck. From the pocket of her lab coat she produced a clip and secured the tight knot of hair behind her head. She blew an exasperated sigh into the stagnant air and leaned against the wall beside the door.

Though the hospital was state-of-the art, owing much of that to the fact that it was a Systems Alliance Naval hospital, the architects had retained the archaic brick walls historically common along this portion of the eastern seaboard in the United North American States. Normally June found the quaint brick and mortar a nice reprieve from the sterile facades of the newer constructions, but today it was inefficient. The dark brick had absorbed the morning sunlight and as June reclined against the wall, the heat emanating from the bricks scorched her shoulders. She sucked in a pained breath as she jumped away from the wall.

Somewhere to her right June heard laughter and a flush crossed her cheeks in embarrassment. During this time of day, the supply docks June chose for her retreat were quiet as most deliveries were made in the early morning hours. Only a few stray dock workers idly sorted through the morning's shipments or, as was more often the case, leaned against the stacked crates and chatted amongst themselves. They didn't pay June much mind, having grown used to the resident's predictable routine.

Over the past couple of weeks, though, one of the workers had taken an interest in June and it was his face she turned to scowl at as he sauntered across the blazing concrete in her direction. He reminded June of a candle: his artificially pale skin waxy from pigment augmentations and his hair a freshly-dyed shade of burning orange. The blue in his eyes was probably genetically modified, too, unlike the rare naturally bright blue color of June's irises. She never understood the point in looking like a cartoon, preferring to keep her muddled olive skin and dark hair. Her mother had always preached to her children the importance of their mixed heritage, often reminding them that in the not-too distant past their features would have been unusual, even exotic.

"Hot enough for you?" he teased with a toothy grin set in his face.

"I wouldn't be out here if I didn't feel it was necessary," June said pointedly, producing a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it in one swift movement. As she inhaled, the nicotine smoothed over her frayed nerves and she relaxed her stiff shoulders.

"Too many stubbed toes?" Candle-boy sat down on the edge of a low wall that circled meticulously landscaped shrubbery. June realized he wasn't going to let her enjoy her peace and a twinge of annoyance crossed her face. If he noticed it, he didn't let on. Instead, he opened his mouth to say something, but his words were cut off by a chime on June's wrist. Grateful that her Omni-tool had spared her further uncomfortable small-talk, she raised her arm in front of her to check the page. The holographic interface stretched out over her forearm at the gesture and, cigarette perched upon her lip, she looked over the message. _Visitor _was all it offered and June shrugged it off. Whoever it was could wait until she had a sufficient supply of nicotine coursing through her system.

"Something important? What do they say - Code Blue?" He sounded eager. June, on the other hand, was just hoping she could make it through the remainder of her fourteen-hour shift without incident.

"If someone's in cardiac arrest and they expect me to do something about it, they're screwed. I'm on break."

"Ouch. May I never be so unlucky as to wind up under your care." The words may have been harsh, but they both knew June would have jumped if she were called to a code. Sour temper aside, June was an Alliance doctor and she took her responsibility to serve and protect to heart, even if she had to grimace through another oozing wound cleaning. A visitor was something different, though, something personal. Her mind worked through the very short list of possibilities: her mother had passed away three years ago and her father, well, he could be dead too for all she knew and cared. Any friend she had was packed into the same walls she worked in every day, and they always knew where to find her. Her curiosity got the better of her and she dropped the remainder of her cigarette on the concrete, snuffing out the cherry with the tip of her utilitarian shoe.

"I should go," she said to Candle-boy and she turned to open the door. Someone had beaten it to her, though. The metal door slid back into a recess in the wall and June gawked up at the man that stood behind it.

"Ben? What are you doing here?" Though her brother was the same age as Candle-boy, he looked even older than June; his eyes, the same bright blue as his sister's, stood out against the dark circles ringing his eyes. He towered over June at six-foot-three, but his shoulders were stooped as though burdened with a heavy weight. However, what troubled June the most was the anxiety emanating from her younger brother. The air around him was tense. For a man who epitomized the ever-confident soldier, this nervousness was unsettling to June.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His voice betrayed more of his anxiety than his face and the first knots of fright formed in June's stomach. Her mind began mulling through a myriad of possibilities. Was a family member ill? Had someone died? No, his words suggested that where they stood was the problem. A terrorist attack? This hospital was one of the first to outfit itself for multi-species care and that had garnished more than a few threats from radical pro-human groups that took offense. However, none of the threats had ever amounted to anything more than protests.

June was abruptly shaken from her thoughts by the sound of sirens erupting from within the building behind Ben. Both her and Candle-boy's Omni-tools ushered urgent chimes and the notification lights pulsed an alarming red.

"What's going on?" Candle-boy spoke the question that had been swimming in June's mind from the moment she saw Ben's haggard face. Unlike the ashen-faced dock worker, though, she knew better than to ask pointless questions. If it was as serious as June perceived, Ben would not afford the time to explain. He would say go and expect the command to be headed.

"They're readying evac shuttles at the transport lot. You'd better get there quick." Thankfully, Candle-boy complied. As soon as the man disappeared around a corner, Ben slipped a canvas pack from his shoulder and pulled out a small, cylindrical device. It had been years since June had undergone basic training and the device had downsized considerably, but she recognized it as a portable shield generator. Ben anticipated combat, narrowing the list of possibilities considerably.

He handed the device to June and she affixed it to the back of the Omni-tool strapped to her wrist. The generator began a low hum and a shimmer passed before June's field of vision. She flipped her wrist over and the Omni-tool chimed as it recognized the device and displayed shields at full capacity.

"You remember how to use one of these, right?" Ben asked as he handed her a loaded pistol. The heavy weight of the cool metal brought back irrepressible memories of target practice in basic.

"As I recall, I'm a better shot than you," she coolly reminded him. Ben allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up in a half-hearted smile. Before enlisting, June's vision had required corrective wear and her brother would often tease her inability to hit the broad side of a barn with their prized BB gun. The mandatory genetic modifications the Alliance implemented to enhance their soldiers had corrected the flaw and June quickly surpassed her peers as a proficient sharpshooter. Her superiors had called it a "damn shame" when she turned down her selection for a sniping and reconnaissance squad in favor of pursuing medicine.

"So I take it we're not evacuating just yet," she noted as Ben pulled an assault rifle from his pack. _Does he really think he's going to need that much firepower?_

"No, we're heading over there." Ben gestured with the barrel of his gun towards a stretch of row-houses beyond the trees.

"The hospital's not the only target?"

"No, June. The whole goddamn planet is." June's mind came to an abrupt halt, the theories she had been pulling together completely shattered. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway, as Ben was already breaking off into a run towards the trees on the far side of the lot.

June sucked in a breath, but it did nothing to shake the numbness seizing her mind. _The whole goddamn_ planet_?_ She repeated his words as she followed behind Ben, but the weight of them still did not fully register.

At the end of the lot they came to a grassy hill and their pace slowed enough for June to speak as they made their way through the thicket of trees.

"So we're, what, going to go door to door telling people the whole fucking _planet_ is under attack?"

"Something like that."

"That's a little old-school, isn't it Ben? Couldn't the Alliance brass just take over local communications and broadcast a warning? It'd save me a pair of shoes."

"The Reapers took out the comm buoys. Communication is down planet-wide." They landed at the bottom of the hill and June stared at her brother's back. _Reapers._ The word conjured memories of the vids and extranet articles that had been circulating over the past few years regarding humanity's first Spectre. They'd painted Commander Shepard's claims of a synthetic species bent on destroying galactic life as asinine, the ravings of a lunatic. Those were the kinder iterations. More radical outlets claimed it was all a ruse to incite panic in Council space to detract from Shepard's involvement with a pro-human terrorist group, Cerberus.

June had wanted to believe that a fellow Alliance soldier, especially one as decorated and renowned as the Commander, would not spread so audacious a claim to cover such sinister connections, but the idea of the Reapers seemed more theological than plausible. If the Reapers did exist, why would Shepard's warnings be ignored? Bigotry could not undermine self-preservation, or so June reasoned. And then there was Ben; if June had a hard time believing a theory, Ben would call it bullshit and pay it no more of his time. He was not one to believe conspiracy theories, no matter whether they fell on the tamer end of the spectrum or leaned towards the glass-bottle-on-a-doorknob side. For him to accept the existence of the Reapers meant he had to have irrefutable evidence.

"That Spectre was right?" The implications of the threat were washing over her conscious now, cresting against the bubble she had happily built around her. It had assured her that so long as she _felt_ removed from the woes of the galactic community, she was immune to them. The waves tore apart her construct, seeping through the cracks as helplessness and fear. She was afraid. Ben looked back at his sister and June realized she did not need any further confirmation from him. She understood the unnerving aura seeping from his pores now: it was the same fear slowly taking hold of her. His face mirrored the horror June had found in understanding the threat they faced.

The final surge of terror rushed through June's shattered oblivion and she was left shaking, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat despite the rancid heat. The air was so still, so quiet – and yet charged with expectation. She wanted to run, to hide, to disappear back into oblivious peace, but there was no way to forget this knowledge.

"June, we don't have much time. You take the left bank. I'll take the right." There was an understanding between the siblings that had not been there before. Ben could have run. He could have been off-world at the first sign of the threat. Yet here he was. "Tell everyone to get to the hospital. That's their best chance. If anything goes wrong, meet me here. If I'm not here, get yourself to the transports."

"Ben?" Her brother's face softened at the sound of her voice so distant, so small. "I love you, little brother." She reached an arm up around his shoulders in a somber embrace. Ben squeezed her shoulders in return.

"I love you too, sis." For a brief moment they were no longer Alliance marines: they were brother and sister together against the odds. But the moment passed quickly and they retreated behind the hard-edged masks every soldier wore. Ben started off towards a stretch of brick row-houses to their right and June mirrored his movements to the left.

The first house June came to was neatly kept, though the brick face appeared original, unlike the hospital. These were old houses, from the looks of the front door. Instead of a keypad, a small doorbell sat to the left of a bronze doorknob. June pushed the button, but no sound ushered from within. _Come on._ She balled a fist and banged on the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing through the whole structure. Footsteps approached and June sighed in relief.

"Yes?" The woman who answered the door looked flustered and behind her the sounds of a small child running across the wooden floor caught June's attention. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach.

"We are evacuating these buildings," June began, "We need you to head to the transport lot at the hospital." June swiveled her waist and pointed out the direction. "Head over that hill and follow the building along the right-hand side."

"And who is 'we'?" June produced the Alliance badge she kept tucked into the breast pocket of her lab coat and offered it to the woman. June could feel the seconds ticking away with every heavy, sickly heartbeat.

"Let me grab my things," the woman sighed as she returned the laminated badge.

"There's no time. Grab whoever is in the house and get to the lots." June's voice raised a pitch and she tucked her pistol into the waist of her pants. "If you need help, I'm offering, but we need to get you out of here quick."

The woman's sleepy eyes widened as she saw the glint of the pistol she had missed at first glance. She retreated a few steps back into her house, shaking her head slowly. For a moment, June thought the woman was going to shut the door in her face, but instead she turned and beckoned to the small, tawny-haired child behind her. The little girl ran to her mother's side and was scooped up by the woman's arms. June held the door aside as the mother and daughter stepped through and made their way towards the hill.

The next two houses were empty and the third and fourth produced a young couple and an indignant businessman who looked as though he'd just arrived home from the office for lunch. She had only one house left on the row and though she'd nearly beaten in the door with her pounding, no one had answered. As she turned to head back towards the hill, her mind registered two things: the door to her left opened and in the clear sky overhead, small dark blurs were fast approaching.

Time slowed.

June tore her eyes away from the sky and looked down at the elderly man that stood feebly over his wooden cane. He wouldn't be able to move fast enough.

"Hey!" June turned and called to the nearest evacuee. The businessman turned and scowled at June, not attempting to hide his inconvenience. Ignoring the contempt in his face, June gestured to the elderly man. "Help him evacuate to the lot!"

Time was running out and June couldn't afford to explain herself further. The businessman hesitated.

"Get him to the lot, now!" June commanded as she gestured at the dark shapes quickly taking form overhead. The man looked skyward and his face blanched. What had been blurs were now discernible as ships; completely alien in design and sinister, they were descending at an alarming rate. The man rushed to June's side and threw an arm beneath the elderly man's shoulders.

June pulled the pistol from beneath her lab coat and ran down the row of houses to where Ben had been evacuating residents. He met her halfway and they exchanged a solemn look. They had done what they could. There was a whole city that stretched beyond them, but it was too late. The Reapers were upon them.

A small, hopeful part of June's mind wanted to believe that there were more marines like Ben who were evacuating who they could, but a sick realization crawled through June's logic: it wasn't just unlikely – it was impossible to evacuate everyone.

A hot wind picked up around the siblings, carrying with it an insidious bellow somewhere between the crushing of metal and a roar. June forced herself to look up. The array of alien ships loomed overhead, their massive forms darkening the sky. They varied in size, but several stood out as immense, hulking masses with protrusions jutting out beneath them like claws. One of these ships was near enough for June to detail a great red spot in its center. June was transfixed, rooted to the ground by both fear and awe.

Ben shouted something, but his voice was drowned out by an incessant hum that flooded June's senses. Again, he shouted, but this time he grabbed her arm.

"Run!"

So immersed had she been in the wake of the flagship she had not realized smaller cruisers pass in her peripheral vision. June was jarred from her hypnotism as the ground lurched beneath her. Had Ben not retained his grip on her arm, she would have been thrown by a tremor that rocked through the ground. It took her a moment to realize that it was not one, but several tremors staggered unevenly. It felt as though something very large and very heavy was being dropped again and again.

Ben released his hold as the tremors subsided and darted ahead of June, towards the hill. He readied his rifle as he ran, switching the safety off and checking the magazine. June followed suit and her pistol issued a hiss as a thermal clip locked itself into place. A second bellow pealed overhead, much closer this time. Searing heat followed and both Ben and June were launched forward as the buildings behind them were impacted by a blast.

Ben rolled with the shockwave and was on his feet before his sister. He turned to pull her up, but an energized bullet clipped his shields as he reached down. His rifle returned fire, providing June enough cover to find her footing. Her pistol joined his in the exchange as they backed the remaining five feet to the base of the hill.

As the debris and smoke settled, June was finally able to see their adversaries. The figures that fired upon them were grotesquely humanoid in appearance, though their bodies were covered in bulbous masses and what would be their faces were sunken into their swollen heads. Several other humanoid figures crawled over the wreckage towards the hill, their emaciated, sinuous bodies feral in appearance.

A single, unifying trait ran amongst the twisted aberrations: though they were distinctly humanoid in appearance, there was something horrifyingly _unnatural_ about their presence. At the base of the hill it was too far away to be certain, but what appeared to be wires and tubes snaked in and around the figures and their bodies pulsed with a blue light.

June dropped her fire and followed Ben up the hill, their lithe movements through the trees offering them a measure of protection against the fire that continued to rain upon them. At the top, June turned to look back and the sight that lay before her knocked the wind from her lungs. Beyond the ruins of the row-houses a flood of the synthetic abominations overran the neighborhood. The shrieks and cries of the people left behind reached June's ears amid thunderous roars. It was all she could do to fight her remorse as she turned her back to the slaughter.

Ben was staring over her shoulder at the massacre, his face pained.

"We need to go," she reminded him as she touched his arm. He regained his composure under his sister's touch and raced alongside June towards the transport lots. The hospital stood empty, though the sirens still echoed through the deserted halls. They reached the lot where security personnel were loading the remainder of the hospital's staff and the throng of evacuees into the small shuttles. These ships were designed for transport between nearby colonies that did not yet have adequate medical facilities and were not equipped to hold more than a small EMT team and their patient. The medical equipment that took most of the interior space had been cast out onto the concrete lot and June had to weave around gurneys and life support systems to make it to the two remaining shuttles.

"Our supply ships already departed," she heard one of the security guards say, "This is all we have left, so you'll have to trust they'll make it to the Citadel." _The Citadel._ Ben must have given the order that they retreat to the heart of the galactic community. Though June had never seen the massive space station first-hand, she knew it was well-fortified. It made sense to take their refugees there as any outlying colony would not be prepared for an influx of civilians, but June was uneasy. Humanity had only been awarded a council seat within the past couple of years and June was unsure how secure diplomatic relations were between humanity and the rest of the galaxy. Whether the unexpected arrival of human refugees would be welcomed on the Citadel gave June pause. These shuttles could conceivably carry them to the Serpent Nebula, but beyond that? It was doubtful.

"Then I'll wait here for the Alliance to send more competent transportation." It was the businessman, of course.

"There's a ground force coming over the hill behind us," Ben interjected. The security guard and businessman turned to the tall soldier. "If you don't leave now, you're not going to leave at all." There was silence among the group. The businessman crawled into the shuttle.

"Get on," Ben turned to his sister as he pulled the canvas pack from his shoulders. He handed it took her, but June looked up at him defiantly.

"You're coming with me." Heavy footfall approached.

"There's too many of them. They'll overrun the shuttle." Mechanical garbling grew closer.

"Then you'll need another gun!" A bullet hit the shuttle's hull.

"Dammit, June!" Her brother shoved the pack into her arms and forcibly turned her towards the shuttle. Another bullet fired past and June climbed into the shuttle. Only then did she look back at her brother, an unbearable heaviness creeping into her chest. "Keep yourself safe."

The shuttle surged as the engines kicked on and June felt them begin an ascent. Her hand hovered over the door controls, but she couldn't bring herself to lower them. Not yet. The security guards on the ground began backing towards the second shuttle still grounded on the lot, firing into the oncoming hoard. Ben turned away from June and trained his rifle at the figures. She looked to where he fired and sucked in a breath. There were so many.

Ahead of the pack crept nimble, grey bodies. They twisted their way around the streams of bullets, crawling up the hospital wall with remarkable dexterity. With their guns concentrated on the swollen creatures firing volleys of rounds into their group, the security guards - and Ben - could not push them back.

June leveled her pistol at one of the grey creatures and fired. Her bullet caught it in the chest and it fell to the ground, oozing a black tar-like substance. She turned the barrel of her gun to her next target, but a blast rocked the shuttle and her bullet flew errant. A red beam tore through the hospital building, leveling the structure and sending debris flying over the lot below. The humans below scattered for cover, yet the synthetic creatures continued their onslaught.

"They're firing on us!" she heard the pilot shout over the intercom. "Shut that door!" June ignored the command and searched for her brother. She found his figure crouched behind an overturned gurney, his hands working to reload his rifle. Just as he snapped the fresh clip into the gun and raised himself to fire a round, one of the grey creatures sprinted towards his turned back. It lunged and snaked itself around his torso, his shields ineffective against the claws raking at his skin.

"Ben!" June watched in horror as he tried to pry the beast from his back, but a fresh round of fire from the swollen creatures tore through his shields. He fell to the ground, a scarlet pool of blood staining the concrete beneath his motionless body.

The shuttle was ascending faster, but they were still just close enough for June to make a jump. She tossed the pack aside, but someone's arms circled around her, pulling her away from the door. The metal door dropped and hissed into place, locking her into the shuttle. She tore herself from her captor's grasp and threw herself against the cold surface, but it was too late. A final surge took them away from Earth and a void opened in her heart.

Her tears broke free and a wounded cry escaped her lips as she let herself fall into the void.


	2. The Citadel

I'm done with it. I'm done. I hate this chapter. I hate it with the burning passion of a thousand angry suns!

It might not seem like it, but I've been working on my fanfic nearly every day since I submitted chapter one. The problem is, I don't think I'll ever be able to get this chapter right. There's just something... off... about it. Not sure what and at this point I'm ready to move on. Hell, I've finished subsequent chapters in the time it's taken me to perfect this. I considered submitting them for the hell of it, but context is key.

I'd also like to give a shout-out to everyone who encouraged me with their comments on chapter one - especially November 412 here on Fanfiction and Gaia who gave an intensive review. I will be implementing your changes at some point in the near future, I promise!

Anyway. Here's chapter two. May it die a horrible, fiery death. I'm going to go wreak havoc with my turian infiltrator in MP now and pretend the enemies' faces are all June's. Yep.

* * *

_The air around them is cold, yet oppressive. Her mind staggers through a bleak haze, trying to understand, trying to piece together what it is she's lost. They are silent. They know what she has lost. Their faces bear the same pain, the same helplessness._

_Her once-captor takes a seat beside the door, his crisp shirt and tailored pants now stained with grass and dust. He cannot look her in the eye. Instead, his eyes focus on a silver band circling the third finger of his left hand. It is untarnished, unmarred, glinting in the light with all the hopeful promises of a life now gone. He slips the ring from his hand and studies it before his hollow eyes. A realization dawns over him and he is choked by a wounded cry. She cannot resent him more than he faults himself._

_A solemn chant fills the cool air. Though she cannot understand the words, she can interpret their meaning. She looks to the old man hunched over the intricate carvings adorning his wooden cane. He is praying for those they've lost, those left behind - and for those burdened by salvation. His prayer falters. He is weary. His shoulders heave with each ragged breath as he rests his forehead upon his clasped hands._

_"Daddy?" a small voice pleads. The woman holding the child can only shake her head. The child does not understand. She tugs at her mother's shirt insistently, her startled eyes searching for an explanation. The woman gently presses the child's head against her shoulder._

_"Sleep now. It's over." The child's sobs fall away as her eyelids flutter beneath delicate curls. Though she resists, the sleepy comfort of her mother's embrace takes hold. The woman waits until the child's breath falls into rhythm before she lets the tears flow down her cheeks. She cradles the child in her arms, desperately trying to hold herself together. It is useless. Her face is contorted by her pain, her mouth forming silent, anguished cries._

_Arms intertwined, the young couple tries to console each other. The woman clutches a locket hanging by a thin chain around her neck. She looks at June with vacant eyes. The man whispers something in her ear and the words form tears in the emptiness. Her head drops to her hands and she cries incoherently into her palms._

_The man tightens his arm around her shoulders, but his eyes are somewhere distant. He sees smoke rising over distant buildings, dark visages blackening the sky. He hears the shrieks and cries of the abandoned. He is tortured by the same landscape that consumes June's mind._

_She should have stayed._

_The guilty dagger in her stomach twists hard, nauseating waves of pain cresting and falling upon her. They batter her weary body, relentlessly tearing at her wounds. She passes a shaky hand over her damp eyes, but all she can see is a burning Earth._

_She retreats within herself, nursing the gaping wound in her conscience as she pulls together the pieces of her comprehension. She could not save her little brother._

_His is among the tortured faces that haunt her behind closed eyes._

June awoke as a shudder passed through the metal floor beneath her feet. The twisted visions of a ruined Earth receded as she opened her swollen eyes. From beyond the partition dividing the cockpit from the cabin, June could hear the pilot running through docking procedures in what she recognized as the common galactic trade language. Though it had been years since her cursory classes at the Alliance Naval Academy, she was able to discern that they had landed on the Citadel.

Roused from their stupor, the occupants of the shuttle rubbed at the stains their tears had left, trying to regain their composure as the aftereffects of sleep wore away. June tested her heavy limbs. Her muscles protested against the movement, but she persisted and slowly the knots unraveled. Gingerly she lifted herself from the corner she had tucked herself into.

A throbbing pain roared through her skull, clouding her vision and muffling her ears. The hum of machinery intensified around her and pressed in through her pores. It aggravated the ache and June dug a white knuckle into her temple in an attempt to suppress it.

To her relief, it died away. She blinked her eyes to clear the fog and released her held breath.

"Stand by for gravitational and air pressure calibrations," the pilot cautioned over the intercom. From beneath her feet a hum surged, then fell silent. As the interior Earth-like air pressure adjusted to the thinner exterior pressure, June's ears popped and crackled. She'd barely overcome the dizziness before another surge told her the shuttle's artificial gravity unit had shut down.

Though June had run through simulations of common galactic gravitational forces in basic, the effects were no less disorienting. An eerie lightness washed over her body and she felt herself lifted. It was as though she stood in waist-deep water, but her weight was more absent than supported. In the lower gravity and thinner air pressure, her blood circulated more freely with each heavy heartbeat. A rush of blood to her head tipped her back against the metal hull and left her clinging to a support bar running the interior perimeter.

The last hum-whir of machinery dissipated. The air fell hot, stagnant, quiet - and yet charged with morose anticipation. Through the windowless metal hull a commotion rose up as a dull roar. A multitude of voices called out and responded; inbound starships echoed as they landed in the docking bay. _Refugees_, June realized. _Like us._

A hopeful thought cultivated in her mind: there had been another shuttle on the ground. She envisioned the security guards retreating, her brother clinging to life as they carried him to safety. Were theirs among the roar of voices? June banished the cruel optimism as quickly as it had descended. _No. Ben's gone._

June blinked back a fresh mist clouding her vision and out of her peripheral vision she could see the faces of the refugees turned to her expectantly. Though she averted her gaze, she could feel their eyes boring into her skin. They studied her closely, critical of the irritated flush prickling her cheeks, the beads of sweat clustering at her temples.

She understood their expectation. She was Alliance: a voice for humanity's interest, an instrument of their need. The oath she'd taken as an idealistic teenager had crafted her into that symbol. She remembered the scrawny, messy-haired youth in the recruitment office, enlistment papers clutched in sweaty palms against the nervous palpitations in her chest. It had been a salvation, a hopeful path from a disadvantaged life. She'd never imagined it would lead her here.

That memory seemed so distant. The broken woman clutching the guardrail as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded would not recognize herself in that bright-eyed youth. In a few short hours she had lost so much. In leaving Earth she had forfeited her home, her confidence, her security, and her brother.

_Ben._Where June had found purpose in her Alliance uniform, Ben saw respect. She'd seen it dawn in his eyes the first time June came home on leave after basic. He had studied the crisp uniform with its bold insignia and imagined no longer having to walk with stooped shoulders to hide his lanky, too-tall form. Denial after denial had not deterred him. June could still see his smug face over the vid-com when he triumphantly announced his acceptance into the Alliance ranks.

The memory brought the traces of a bittersweet smile to her lips. _You never did know when to back down, did you?_  
_  
Neither did you, June. Runs in the family, or so you said._

June pushed herself away from the railing. Her oath still stood beside her; her purpose was no different. She sucked in a heavy breath.

"Everyone stay seated for now," she instructed the upturned faces. Again the ache reverberated through her skull, angrily tearing at her resolution. She stifled the bitter bile working its way up her throat until it settled in the pit of her stomach along with the maelstrom of fear and doubt that begged her to relinquish her responsibility. Clarity broke through and she found the will to gather her focus.

One careful step at a time, she crossed the distance to the airlock and retrieved the pistol she had discarded alongside Ben's pack. Her deft fingers disassembled the weapon and she laid the pieces in clear view of the door. She reached for the pack and glanced over the contents. All that lay at the bottom were a few holodisks and a folded scrap of paper.

June shouldered the pack as an omni-tool chimed from the cockpit. The pilot stepped through the partition, his eyes fixed on a message displayed in the holographic glow stretching over his forearm.

"They're requesting we release the airlock."

June trained her ears to the muffled commotion beyond the metal hull. She could distinguish a trio of voices approaching the shuttle from amid the din. The first two voices were baritone and undercut by a throaty echo, the language comprised of short, raspy syllables. _Turian._ The third voice hummed a melodic string, feminine and airy. _Asari._

From the side of her omni-tool, June detached a small earpiece and fit it to her left ear. Her fingers tapped a command into the interface and the indicator light blinked as the translator activated. A soft, snowy static hummed low in her ear, but the voices were too muffled to be picked up.

"I'll talk to them," she advised the pilot. "Does anyone else have a translator?" As she expected, most everyone shook their heads. She'd pulled these people from the comfort of their homes. All they had were the clothes on their backs.

June waited for the guilty dagger to dig at her again, prepared for the torturous pain. But it was still. She was aware of its presence, but it did not tear at the edges of her wound any further.

"Translate for them," she instructed the pilot as her fingertips flew over the door controls. The door breathed a sigh and a flood of light and cold, bitter air rushed through the shuttle. June reflexively lifted a hand to shield the glaring light from her tender eyes. However, what chilled her more than the bitter air were the echoing cries that had been muffled by the shuttle's hull.

Where before the commotion had been a dull, indistinct roar, it now rose as a thunderous riot of voices desperately clawing over each other to be heard. June's translator worked to decipher the tangle of foreign human languages and she was fed fragments of their tearful pleas.

"Please, just look again," one voice begged. "Please."

"But she was right behind me!" another argued.

"Help him, please! He's not breathing!"

"I don't understand… I don't-"

"…why?"

June frantically fumbled with the dial on her earpiece until the hellish noise died down to a haunted whisper. She was not yet ready for the burden of their sorrow as well.

Her eyes acclimated to the bright illumination bathing the docking bay as an asari gestured to an armored turian guard standing behind her. She indicated the disassembled pistol and he stepped forward to retrieve it as another turian leveled his rifle at June's chest.

"Is anyone else armed?" The translator relayed the question with a near-imperceptible delay through June's earpiece, the velveteen asari voice replaced by that of an artificially generated human woman. To her left, the pilot asked the question aloud in English.

Though June shook her head, the turian that had retrieved the pistol lifted his omni-tool and passed it over the occupants of the shuttle.

"Arms cleared," he confirmed. The asari crossed her hands behind her back as a signal for the turians to stand down and tipped her head towards June. The overhead light reflected off of the geometric patterns of the vestigial scales tracing the asari's deep blue skin. Though her face was youthful, there was a quiet wisdom behind her violet eyes as she contemplated the human standing before her. June stared back unflinchingly, entranced by the contours of a face that seemed familiar and alien at the same time.

"I am Aurelia Nasina, Citadel Security refugee specialist," she offered with a polite smile as she gracefully leapt into the shuttle. "We regret that you have come to the Citadel under such dire circumstances, but we will do our best to accommodate you." In a very human, and very rehearsed, gesture, the asari held her hand out to June.

"Lieutenant June Shin, Systems Alliance Navy – Medical Services." She extended her hand to meet the asari's and a static shock sparked at her fingertips. _Biotic_, she reminded herself. _I'd forgotten about that._

As Aurelia introduced herself to the pilot, June glanced sideways at the turian guards. Out of her peripheral vision she caught one of the officers lean close to his partner. He spoke low, but June discretely nudged the dial on her earpiece enough for the translator to pick up his words.

"Filthly little rodents deserve worse than this. I'm surprised she can still hold her head up after the batarians humiliated her people."

The speaking turian was advanced in age, judging by the ashen pallor of his carapace. Old scars distorted the green markings tracing his jaw and the plated bridge of his nose. _Don't let it get to you. He's old and probably the turian equivalent of senile._

Despite her best reasoning, June could feel her temper flaring. An angry flush bloomed at her cheeks and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her tongue from inciting a diplomatic incident. The other turian, visibly far younger and lacking tribal markings, shot his partner a cold look.

Aurelia turned to address June and noted the anger in the human's face. She flicked her violet eyes in the direction of the guards, but did not outwardly acknowledge the insult.

"We will be escorting you to a temporary hold for registry and processing. From there you will be directed to the lower holds where a representative from the human embassy will assist with the immigration process."

As the pilot translated the asari's words, the young couple exchanged a worried look.

"Immigration process?" the woman asked in the June's direction.

"In order for refugees to maintain residence on the Citadel until conflict has passed on their home world, we require immigration paperwork be submitted," Aurelia responded directly to the pale-faced woman as though she were reading from a script.

"How long will that be?" the woman did not take her eyes from June.

"The immigration process normally takes less than a galactic-standard week, but current communication barriers with Earth may extend that to a month or more," Aurelia continued.

"No, I meant how long will it be until we can return to Earth?" A heavy silence fell over the shuttle in the wake of the woman's desperate, frustrated question.

"Gina," the man seated beside her placed a hand upon her shoulder, but she shrugged him away.

"Don't we have a right to know how long they plan to keep us here?" Her irritation broke through and she directed her anger at June. "I have family back there! What are they supposed to do?"

June could only shake her head, unable to produce either the answer the woman wanted to hear, or the likely truth.

"Typical Alliance," the woman cried bitterly as a fresh wave of tears filled her eyes. She slipped back into her sorrow and buried her face within her trembling hands.

They hadn't even left the confines of the shuttle and already June felt a the bitter tendrils of failure thrashing in her chest. An apology would do nothing. Instead June turned from the woman's sobs and disembarked the shuttle.

Aurelia stepped down behind her and touched a slender hand to June's elbow. With the gathered fabric at her elbow impeding another static discharge, June barely felt the touch. Unlike the asari's enthusiastic handshake, this touch was personal, sympathetic.

"Officer Nehrus," Aurelia addressed the elder turian in a hushed voice. "I believe Officer Valerius and I can handle this group from here. Why don't you assist with the more populated shuttles?"

As difficult as it was for June to read expression in the hard lines of a turian face, she could detect an unmistakable animosity boiling in the officer's eyes. He looked from Aurelia to the human woman standing at her side, but he did not challenge the tactful command. Wordlessly, he turned from the refugees filing out of the shuttle and stalked off in the direction of a fresh wave of starships.

"I must apologize for my colleague," Aurelia offered as soon as Nehrus was outside of earshot. "C-sec was not expecting so many refugees from the human systems. We're all a little on edge."

"Don't make excuses for that xenophobic old bastard," the younger turian named Valerius shot in the asari's direction. Aurelia silenced him with a sharp look and the officer turned his attention back to the elderly man he was assisting out of the shuttle.

June ignored the apology. _He's right. It's not her place to apologize._

"Who told you this was a batarian attack?"

"The racial tension between batarians and humans is well known. After Shepard-"

"It wasn't the batarians. It was a Reaper attack."

Aurelia and Valerius exchanged a quick look as a hush fell over the group huddled around the shuttle. A few humans and C-sec personnel within earshot turned their attention to June.

"That's a bold claim." The translation of Aurelia's voice affected a skeptical tone.

"She's right." Everyone's eyes turned to the pilot as he spoke. "I know my starships. What we saw did not match a ship any known species manufactures."

"I saw the thing you shot," the businessman admitted in June's direction. "It looked more human than anything, but I doubt it could've even been called that."

A panicked murmur arose among those listening. This was the first wave of evacuees. Few had stayed on Earth long enough to have caught a meaningful glimpse of their aggressors.

"Officer Valerius, take them down," the asari instructed. "I'm going to take this to C-sec headquarters." With that, Aurelia disappeared into the crowd.


End file.
